


If the Moment Ever Comes

by somuchust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 03:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somuchust/pseuds/somuchust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spell turns Sam into a girl. Dean doesn't recognize him, and Sam doesn't want to tell him quite yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If the Moment Ever Comes

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Muse's Endlessly.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sam, Dean or Supernatural.  
> Set somewhere in the first season of the show.  
> I've had this idea for years, but I haven't been able to put it into words until now. I don't know why. This bit of the story is really the one I wanted to tell, but if you feel like a sequel to resolve certain things is necessary, I will consider it.

_It's going to be okay,_ he thinks _. Don't panic. Find Dean. Everything is going to be all right. Go find Dean, he'll know what to do. He'll freak out and possibly laugh, but he'll help. Breathe._

Sam keeps repeating this to himself, but it is futile. His breathing is fast and shallow and he knows he's trembling, yet he can't stop. He's glad it's almost midnight, it means it's dark enough he can not actually see everything. He tried not to look, but then he did – he had to eventually, it's his body – and now he can't tear his gaze away. He's not looking at the dead witch lying on the meadow not far from him. He shot her three times - she was tough and when she cast her spell, he thought he was done for - it felt like his body was melting and being torn apart from the inside, so all he wanted was to take her down with him. He feels sick just remembering it, but then it stopped and now he's – he's – he's _changed_.

He tries to inhale deeply. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. His chest rises with every breath. It's bizarre. His shirt doesn't fit him properly now. He's afraid to unbutton it. He knows what he'll find, and it's wrong, it's not his body, it's not him.

He doesn't want to move. Walking feels... different. In fact, any kind of movement feels different. His breasts – and that is a strange things to think about, his breasts – jiggle slightly whenever he walks, turns, bends. How do women ignore that and go on with their lives? Not to mention the strange emptiness between his legs.

Minutes pass while he focuses on standing still and breathing deeply. Reluctantly, his mind calms down. He regains some self control, and he uses it to try to plan the best course of action. This situation is weird, even for the Winchester's lifestyle.

_Find Dean._

He can't explain what happened to his brother over the phone. He just can't. But first, he must take care of the witch's body. He can't even remember her name now. All he sees is her blank gaze and the blood on her clothes. Strangely enough, that helps him revert to hunter mode, and he does his best to prepare her body, burn it and clean up the blood and remains without getting distracted by his changes. The familiarity of the task calms him, and by the time he reaches the Impala, he feels stable enough to drive. If he forces his mind as far away from the issue at hand as possible, he can almost pretend everything is normal.

When he reaches the bar he knows Dean's currently at – him being drunk and far from the witch's location was the reason he went after her alone without even letting Dean know – he parks the car and takes a few moments to attempt to relax and think. He forces himself to look down at his body again and deal with the situation. He raises his hands – now trembling again slightly – and unbutton his shirt, top down, slowly. He's wearing a tank top underneath, which is now hugging his curves and drawing attention to what shouldn't be there. He's still to afraid to unzip his jeans, but he manages to glance at himself in the mirror. Of course, his face is different. More feminine. His eyes and hair are the same, and he thinks he still looks recognizable despite the changes in his features.

He swallows and gets out of the car. Locking it behind him, he heads for the bar. He catches a glimpse of himself in the bar windows, and he sees his frame has changes and he is smaller. Still tall for a girl, but not as tall as he should be. Trying not to think about it too much, he enters the dim bar. Classic rock is playing, and people are talking and laughing loudly. For a moment, he finds it strange that they can't see what's wrong with him and don't even look at him twice. Then he realizes they've never met him and he just looks like a regular girl to them. It's a bizarre feeling.

He looks around for Dean, but can't see him anywhere. With his luck, he's already found a girl and is now fucking her in the bathroom or the back alley. The thought makes him feel frustrated, and Sam sighs, runs his hands through his hair and tries not to panic again.

It's not a small establishment, and just because he couldn't spot Dean immediately, it does not mean he's not here. Sam feels awkward in his new form and irrationally angry at Dean for not being there when he needs him. He starts by checking the pool tables, and upon not finding Dean, continues with the booths and finally heads to the bar. He feels the sudden urge to drink something strong. He would like nothing more than to be able to forget about his predicament. Sure, getting drunk now might not be the wisest idea, but it is incredibly tempting. In the end, he settles for a beer. He doesn't even realize he hasn't eaten or drunk anything for hours until he opens the bottle and takes a swig. It feels like the first good thing that has happened to him this day, and he relaxes marginally as he turns on his stool to continue his search. Time passes with no success, and he's staring at his nearly empty bottle when he hears someone sit down next to him. He turns around on instinct and his breath catches when he sees Dean. Sam's mouth falls open, as if to say something, but it's like he's forgotten how to speak. It appears Dean has not even noticed him yet, but then he sways slightly in his chair – clearly very drunk – and his eyes settle on Sam's cleavage for a couple of seconds, then slowly travel upwards to his face. Sam feels ridiculously exposed and something hot pools in his stomach, and he absolutely can not speak, waiting for what happens next.

Dean smirks at him and there is no recognition in his eyes, just intent.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he says and Sam is frozen. He knows, he knows in his core that this would be a really good time to speak and tell Dean to stop, that this is all wrong and that it's not a random girl, it's Sam under a spell.

But his body feels electrified. His chest is burning with something, and he can barely think past the fact that he never thought he would ever stand a chance. Dean is looking at him with undeniable want in his eyes, and Sam really does not want to resist. He knows he'll never get another opportunity like this, and all his common sense abandons him in an instant. He could blame it on the change, his mental state or the alcohol, but he knows that this surreal turn of events is his only chance to get the one thing he always wanted and was absolutely sure he could never have.

He smiles, and he feels the blush in his cheeks. His heart is beating fast and his palms are sweating. He takes in Dean's smiling lips and inviting green eyes and he can not say no. They just stare at each other for a few seconds, until the silence gets to Sam and he manages to say “Hi.” Dean's smile grows wider, but neither of them says or does anything for a short while. Sam feels like there is something huge pulling them to each other that he can not put into words. He'd always felt something he did not want to name for his brother, but he can not deny it now that Dean is looking at him _like that_.

The moment is over when Dean looks down so he can scoot his stool closer to Sam's. In that instant, Sam becomes aware of his surroundings – he has somehow managed to completely block out the noise and people – and for a split second, he feels a terrifying surge of panic, and his brain tells him to stop, to think, that what he's doing in wrong and incredibly stupid, there's no way it'll end well – but then Dean is closer to him, practically in his personal space, gently laying his hand on Sam's knee, and his brain turns to mush again. He can barely register anything aside from the warm touch on his leg and Dean's smell and his eyes. Without even thinking about it, he spreads his legs slightly, as if in invitation. At that, Dean inhales sharply and looks down at his hand and then back up into Sam's eyes with an intensity that causes him to shiver in anticipation.

Dean's hand moves up Sam's leg and towards the inside of his thigh painfully slowly. Throughout the movement, they maintain eye contact and Sam feels dizzy. He wishes he was wearing a skirt instead of his jeans, so there would be no barrier fabric between their skin.

When Dean's hand has nearly reached its goal, Sam can't take it any more. He slides of the stool, leans into Dean and whispers into his ear, “Shouldn't we go somewhere more private?”

His brother doesn't hesitate. He stands up, slides a hand around Sam's lower waist and leads him towards the back exit without saying a word. The bar is crowded and they have to push past people to get to their destination. Dean holds him closer possessively and Sam just goes along with it, torn between feeling excited and terrified of what will happen next.

They reach the door and Dean opens it. They look around but can't see anyone in the dark alley. Once they leave the bar and shut the door behind them, the atmosphere immediately becomes quieter and more focused. They barely make it a few steps towards a dark corner before Dean turns swiftly and shoves Sam against the wall, stepping in to press his entire body against him just enough for them to be touching everywhere, but only lightly. As Sam breathes, his sensitive breasts rub unintentionally against Dean's chest. Sam's legs are spread slightly again, so one of Dean's thighs if between his, touching his groin. Dean catches Sam's arms in his own, brings them above Sam's head and grinds against him. Their faces are only inches apart and Dean's eyes flicker between Sam's eyes and lips, and yet when Sam leans in for a kiss, his brother leans his head back to prevent it. Instead, he grinds against him again and again and the friction brings Sam pleasure that makes him throw his head back and close his eyes. Then Dean takes a step back and lowers his hands to Sam's breasts, cupping them lightly and then squeezing, making small circles with his thumbs against his nipples, and even through the fabric of his tank top, the feeling is intense, yet not entirely pleasurable. Something about the parts of his body he still refuses to accept as his freaks Sam out, and he shoves Dean away just enough that he can turn around 180 degrees, ignoring the confused look on his face.

“Like this,” Sam whispers, his face against the rough surface of the wall. It takes Dean a second or two to react, but then he's trapping Sam against the wall with his body. “Okay,” he says simply and simultaneously bites his neck and nudges his legs further apart with his foot. His hands are splayed on Sam's ass and he squeezes and lifts him up until Sam is standing on his tip toes and mainly being supported by the wall and Dean's hands, which are quickly replaces by his hips and Sam can feel Dean is hard. He bites his lips from letting out a whimper as Dean's cock rubs against the crease of his ass and he cannot stand the fact the their bare skin still isn't touching. Dean must be thinking the same thing as he reaches down and unzips Sam's jeans, letting them fall and pool around his ankles. Sam feels strangely trapped, as he cannot spread his legs further then the jeans that feel like shackles around his ankles allow him. Dean supports him with one hand while using the other to undress himself. Soon, he registers the sound of a condom packet opening and a strange shiver of anticipation runs through him.

Sam is surprised when he hears his brother speak. “What's you name?” he asks, and Sam's thinking abilities are clearly hampered by the situation he is in, so he blurts out “Sam,” before he even realizes what he's doing. He hears and feels Dean go completely still for a second, before he relaxes and inches closer into Sam, leaning his chin against his shoulder as he says softly, “Can I call you Sammy?”

Hearing that, Sam cannot contain a strangled gasp, and feels completely unable to produce words, so he just nods quickly and leans his head to the side, lightly brushing his lips against Dean's before turning forward again and grinding his hips back into Dean's. They are both naked from the waist down now. Dean slides one hand across Sam's stomach and rests it there, using it to gently tilt Sam's body exactly the way he wants him. He uses his other hand to guide his cock towards between Sam's thighs, rubbing it softly backwards and forwards a couple of times, coating it in wetness, teasing Sam's clit, before sliding in as deep as he can go. Even though he knew it was coming, the intrusion feels sudden and surprising to Sam. He feels filled like he never has before, and he can feel his brother's cock inside of him whenever he moves even slightly. Dean gives him a couple of seconds to adjust, then pulls out almost completely before slamming into him again. Sam's head falls back against Dean's shoulder as he moans. Dean continues thrusting into him relentlessly, faster and harder, and Sam can barely maintain his grip on the wall. Sam's had sex with girls and even guys before, but he's never felt as utterly fucked as he does now. The hand on his stomach moves lower until three of Dean's fingers are pressing against Sam's clit, the force of Dean's thrusts providing the rhythm for the friction. Sam's thoughts abandon him as pleasure builds up and finally spreads through his entire body as if in an explosion. He moans, his toes curl and he squeezes his inner muscles, tightening the grip on Dean's cock, until he feels his brother shudder and come inside of him. The feeling is unusual and strangely satisfying, and he's lost in it until he hears Dean moan “Sammy,” in a tone that contains something so desperate and yearning that he suddenly _knows_ that what he feels can not be completely one-sided. Perhaps it's that, or the sheer carelessness brought on by the intensity of the orgasm, that makes him reply, “Dean.”

As soon as the word leaves his mouth, they both freeze. Sam feels a sudden wave of cold mortification spread through him and as his back is facing Dean, he finds it impossible to gauge his reaction. Then Dean grabs him roughly and spins him around. His grip on Sam's shoulders is so tight it hurts, but Sam cannot move. Dean's eyes are wide and his mouth is parted slightly in shock. His gaze shifts rapidly between Sam's eyes, face, hair and clothes and it's like he's properly taking in the details for the first time and putting them together in his head. However, he cannot ignore his breasts and lack of a cock – he's still half-naked – and Sam can see that in his inebriated state, Dean cannot make any sense out of the situation.

“It was the witch,” he says weakly, “she cursed me.”

Dean stares at him blankly, apparently refusing to believe what is happening. Sam doesn't know what else to say or do. Explaining what happened to him in more detail wouldn't help. He can't take back what he did, and he's not sure he wants to.

“Dean,” he pleads.

“The witch,” says Dean, his voice quiet and raspy, his face still showing no other emotion aside from shock and confusion, “she made you do this?” and at the last word his voice cracks audibly, his eyes widening in something that resembles fear and disgust.

“No,” Sam tries to say, but no sound leaves his mouth. He inhales deeply and forces himself to look Dean in the eyes and speak louder. “No.” He can't put it in words, but he tries his best to convey with his eyes that this is in no way Dean's fault and that he wanted it, but can Dean please not hate him for it?

Dean suddenly seems to realize that he's still undressed and holding onto Sam's shoulder and he lets him go as if burnt, stepping away as he does so. He avoids meeting Sam's eyes when he bends to pull up his jeans and Sam does the same. The silence is oppressive, and Sam's mind is desperately searching for something to say that would resolve the situation. His heart aches just at seeing Dean looking so lost and helpless.

“Dean,” is all he manages, but there must be something in the way he says it that gets the desired reaction. It causes his brother to look up and face him. His features slowly shift from guilt to anger, and Sam tries to mentally prepare himself for anything.

“You let me do this,” Dean says, “Why would you let me do something like this to you?”

Sam doesn't know how to answer that without putting his heart on the line, so he counters weakly with, “Why did you ask to call me Sammy?”

They both refuse to actually answer and continue staring at each other with a hint of resentment. But Sam is not willing to let it end there and he steps towards Dean, which causes the latter to back away in turn. “Dean,” he repeats. “Stop. Let's just... Can we just not think about this?”

“Pretend nothing ever happened? I can't do that, Sammy,” mutters Dean and shakes his head.

“No. Just not... over think it. I...”

Dean sighs, burying his head in his hands, and Sam decides to give up on trying to find words to fix their relationship. He gathers his courage and takes the necessary steps towards Dean. He uses one hand to pull Dean's hands down and the other to guide his head closer, then leans in and kisses him on the lips. His brother is pliant but not actually cooperating and Sam holds onto him with a certain kind of desperation. “Dean, please....” he whispers into his mouth.

Finally, he feels Dean gingerly place his hands on his waist and return the kiss. Soon, his grip tightens and Sam can sense that he must have reached some conclusion regarding what's going on as they break apart to breathe properly.

“I can try,” Dean says.

Sam smiles in relief. “It's going to be okay,” he says.


End file.
